By My Side
by MoniHoag
Summary: Erik returns for Charles
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: this is not Betaed. I am actively seeking story/beta help if there is a kind soul out there that would be willing to assist. Please contact me.**

**Title**: By My Side (1/?)

**Pairing**: Erik/Charles

**Rating**: PG13 – R (maybe higher later on)

**Category**: Hurt/Comfort, Angst

**Warnings**: Some language, Injured Charles. *maybe* Slash at some point, but not sure yet.

**Standard Disclaimer**: I own nothing connected with X Men other than a deep affection for the movie and characters.

**Setting/Timeline**: Three weeks after the events of Cuba.

**Summary**: Erik returns for Charles.

"_I want you by my side." (Erik to Charles, on the beach)_

One of the consequences of being in enforced traction was that it gave one time to think; when one wasn't being interrogated by the military or poked by doctors, of course. There was a seemingly endless amount of questioning and prodding, but even they stopped during the middle of the night, and unfortunately, that gave Charles too much time to think.

For the first few days after Cuba, Charles had been so heavily sedated from surgery and pain that he hadn't fully realized what was happening at anytime. Now, three weeks later, the drugs were mainly ceased, although he knew that a number of the military officers would have preferred him completely wasted. _He can't do any harm that way_, they had argued. Thankfully, the doctors had had their way and their patient – mutant, or not – was able to think mostly clearly. It wasn't always a good thing.

Charles wearily scratched an irritating spot on his arm, honestly wishing morning would hurry up and arrive. It would bring another round of questioning, of course, but so far, he felt that things had gone about as good as they could. Most of the trigger-happy officials had been calmed, due to equal amounts of persuasion from Moria, cooperation from Hank, Alex, and Sean, and a bit of mental encouragement from Charles. There was also the government tendency to just simply want things to go away, and the mutants had been happy to oblige. Hank and the boys had been released from custody, and were back at the mansion, keeping low. They called at least 3 times a day, and all knew the calls were being monitored, but at least there was the beginning of some cooperation with the government. After all, nothing had happened since Cuba, when the mutants had _adverted_ disaster; even the Navy grudgingly admitted that. Charles hoped it had reached the point where they finally might just be left alone for a while so he could plan his school, and be quiet.

And he could be left alone with his thoughts. Perhaps not a good thing.

He had replayed the events on the beach over and over. How had he failed Erik? Raven? What could he have done differently? Time and time again, he tried and failed to find the answer. _Everyone picks their own destiny_, he tried to remind himself. But he was a telepath; shouldn't he have seen the crisis coming?

Before he could slip again into endless recriminations, Charles forced himself back to the present. Unfortunately, it wasn't all that much better than the past in some respects. But at least he could read this way, he thought firmly, and he let gravity drop his hand down to turn another page in the book lying on the floor about 3 feet from his face.

He was a Ph.D., not an M.D., and until recently he hadn't any more interest in practicing medicine than any other typically healthy young male. Would have thought that as part of his treatment he had to be flipped over quite inelegantly face down to prevent damned bedsores?

Three times a day, the nurses dutifully strapped a huge board over his chest and useless legs, with only a small opening for his face to fit through. Then the cursed hospital bed spun on some sort of pivots at the head and foot, and he was left starring at the floor for the next 4 hours. He hated every second of the "upside down" time, feeling even more vulnerable than he did the time flat on his back. He was still in full traction, and couldn't move much more than his arms, his head firmly gripped in some vice. The doctors had finally told him that the traction would be removed the next day though, and he pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to concentrate on that tidbit of welcome news. And while counting the dots on the floor tile was no more exciting than counting dots on the ceiling tile, he was able to easily read so long as some obliging soul put the book on the floor for him and left the lights on.

So he did his best to focus on the writings of Plato, and let the hospital night pass him by.

A soft sound caught his attention, and he paused. Surely it was too soon for that sadistic nurse to make her rounds.

He had been so careful to not touch the minds of all those around him, except for when it was absolutely necessary to try and calm some ruffled feathers. In a better situation, he would have shouted his thoughts and directions to every mind in reach, but since the shooting, he had been able to focus his powers for only a short amount of time. Trying to connect with all the human minds around him was impossible, and he had concentrated on those in control, trying to smooth the way for Moria, Hank, and the boys. Now however, he tentatively reached out…and encountered emptiness.

And as he watched, one of the series of mirrors rigged about the bed that enabled him to see some angles of the room when he was face down, moved slightly.

Carefully, he placed the bookmark on the pages, marking his place, and slowly closed the text.

"Hello, Erik," he said with a calm he didn't feel.

"Hello, Charles."

A pair of booted feet came into his view, and Charles studied them with a vague detachment for a moment. He had become something of a shoe connoisseur over the past weeks with his view of the world narrowed to the approximately one square meter under the bed. Obviously, there had to have been a cobbler in his family tree somewhere for him to have developed this fascination. "Not to be rude, but when was the last time you polished your boots?"

There was a small chuckle. "I admit it has likely been a while. But really Charles, is that how you now greet your guests? Your mother would be appalled."

"Well, I would offer you a firm handshake, but unless you've become double-jointed that might be a bit of a trick." Charles shrugged, not sure if Erik could see the gesture or not. "And not to be rude again, but I would so much appreciate it if you would move the mirror back. Carrying on a conversation with feet is not terribly pleasant."

A pause, and Charles heard something moving, then something pressing against his back and head. He looked down at himself, and saw the cloth and _metal_ straps of the backboard wrapping themselves around his chest, waist, legs, and to the frame of the bed. Panicked, he gripped the handrails, trying to control his breathing.

With infinite care and odd gentleness, the bed spun in its half circle, and Charles felt the weight of his body gently settle on the backboard as he was rotated to lie on his back. A click of different straps, and the board across his front was floated away. He still clenched the rails, his eyes closed as the dizziness that always accompanied the move waved through him. This time, though, it was much less severe than when the nurses hurriedly spun him, and he opened his eyes to see Erik standing by the bed.

"Is that better?" the German asked quietly. He found a blanket and covered the smaller man with it, tactfully not looking at the already thin legs.

Charles nodded as best he could, forcing himself to release his death grip on the bars. "Better," he agreed thru slightly clenched teeth. "Thank you." Erik inclined his head, and a metal chair skidded across the floor so the older man could sit. Charles took a deep breath as he ran a hand through his hair, pushed it back from his eyes, and then studied his friend. He was completely unwilling to be serious yet, his mind trying to ease his nerves with humor. "I've been meaning to ask you, where did you get that ridiculous helmet?"

Erick stuck a small pose. "You don't like? It is the current fashion."

"Where? In Atlantis?"

Pale eyes flickered to the book on the floor and Erik smiled. "Ah, all respects to Plato, but I doubt he was the height of fashion in his day." He looked back at the telepath. "It was a gift to Shaw, from the Soviets."

Despite himself, Charles was fascinated. "I wonder who they tested in on?" he mussed. "Your girlfriend, perhaps?"

"Emma? I sincerely doubt it."

"Doubt that she let them test on her, or doubt that she is your girlfriend?"

Erik put a hand to his chest as if wounded. "Both," he conceded.

"Damn. I was really hoping that one of us would score sooner or later."

"Not with your pickup lines." Both men smiled, and for a moment, they were back at the Xavier mansion, playing chess, before the disaster of Cuba. It seemed…normal. Erik's smile finally faltered, and he looked over his friend. "How are you, Charles?" he asked, his voice deep.

"Oh, been better," Charles said lightly, refusing to give in an inch. "Hopefully out of here in a few more days." He saw a dark expression in Erick's eyes, and frowned. "It's not your fault," he said firmly. "And it's not Moria's fault either," he added, sensing something else, and remembering how Erick had nearly killed the agent with his mind.

"Really, Charles?" Erik's expression turned grim, visible even with the helmet on. "Then who is to blame?"

"Sometimes….no one," Charles said quietly.

"No, I don't believe that. Things don't just happen in a vacuum; there is always someone responsible," Erik said bitterly.

Charles closed his eyes for a moment, trying to gather strength. Searching Erik's mind after their first meeting, he had come to understand the depths of hurt that Erik had experienced in his life, and try as he might, Charles even accepted that perhaps peace was not something that Erick would every find easily. "Not this time, my friend. I blame no one."

Erik snorted. "Always so forgiving, Charles," he said, his voice half pitying. "That is not the reality of the world. You are too gentle, especially with the Humans. And it has gained you nothing."

"I don't need 'gain'," the younger man said firmly. "Expect for the right to live peacefully—"

"—which has continually been taken away by the Humans, and always will be," Erik finished. The two men glared at each other for a moment, and Charles finally broke the gaze, having to temporarily admit defeat. Something had changed in Erik after confronting and killing Shaw, something that Charles had feared would happen.

"How is Raven?" he asked eventually, carefully changing the subject.

Erik smiled, and his face brightened a little. "She is well," he said sincerely, and Charles knew he spoke the truth.

"She didn't ….come with you?" Charles couldn't help but glance around the room, hoping.

"No, she is not ready yet," Erik said.

Charles blinked back something suspicious from one eye, determinedly staring at the ceiling for a moment to concentrate. "Please tell her that I love her."

"She knows that. And she loves you just as much." Erik leaned forward and placed on hand on Charles' arm. "Charles, you have to accept that she made her choice, for very good reasons. Can't you see that this what the Humans would want? For us to fight amongst ourselves? How can we let that happen?"

"Erik…" Charles hesitated, for once searching for words. "You know that I want you and Raven back."

The older man regarded him thoughtfully. "My friend, has it not occurred to you that we want you back? And I think it's time this foolishness of yours stopped."

The grip on his arm tightened, and Charles looked down for a moment, then slowly met Erik's gaze again.

"There are cameras in the room, you know," he said quietly. Trying to warn, for what good it might do.

"They are made of metal," Erik answered simply. At Charles' questioning look, he elaborated. "They are stopped at the scene before I arrived."

Charles pinched his nose for a moment, feeling a sudden headache. "And the guards and nurses?" he asked, trying to resist the urge to cast out his mind, wanting to trust Erik's word.

"No one is harmed permanently."

His hand went for his temple to help him concentrate, but before Charles could move his hand more than a few inches, Erik captured it in his own, ceasing the movement. Startled, Charles automatically started to raise his other hand, only to have it caught as well. They battled silently for a second, but Erik had always been stronger, even before the accident, and Charles didn't have the strength to resist.

"What are you doing?" Charles hissed, finally started to feel a panic he had never felt around Erik before.

"Charles," Erik's eyes searched his, the pitying look returning. "Do you really think that the Humans will ever let you go?"

It was a hard question, one that Charles knew had to be faced. He could try to influence them, but… "I don't know," he admitted quietly. "All we can do is hope."

The older man hardened his expression. "Hope is a useless action," he spat. "It is the resort of those too weak to fight. And you are not weak, Charles."

"I am not going to fight them." Charles' voice was low.

"No, you won't." Erik's eyes drifted down Charles' body for a moment, and then returned to his face. "But you will fight me."

Helmet or not, Charles read something in Erik's intent, and his eyes widened before quickly narrowing in concentration. Perhaps a directed burst at one of the guards would wake him from whatever Erik had done to them….

Before he could focus, there was a sharp jab in his left arm, and Charles looked down in stunned silence to see a metal needle imbedded in his skin. At a silent command from Erik, it floated away.

"What…?" he murmured, completely shocked.

"I'm sorry, Charles," Erik said quietly, his voice sincere. "But you would never agree to come with me, would you? This is really the only solution."

Charles could only blink as the room began to spin. He tried to focus on the face of his friend. Erik, who would never hurt him, Erik, who was kidnapping…?

He fell into darkness.

Erik remained seated for a moment, gently laying Charles' hand back down on his chest. Then he stood, and reached out a hand to the hospital bed. Obediently, the metal surged, carefully wrapping around the body within and melding with Erik, ready to follow him.

"Azazel," Erick commanded. The teleporter appeared, put one hand on his new leader, the other on the bed, and they all vanished.

TBC…


	2. Chapter 2

**Title**: By My Side (2/?)

**Pairing**: Erik/Charles

**Rating**: PG13 – R (maybe higher later on)

**Category**: Hurt/Comfort, Angst

**Warnings**: Some language, Injured Charles. *maybe* Slash at some point, but not sure yet.

**Standard Disclaimer**: I own nothing connected with X Men other than a deep affection for the movie and characters.

**Setting/Timeline**: Three weeks after the events of Cuba.

Thank you to Snoopy and Lucas for story help!

**Summary**: Erik returns for Charles.

"_I want you by my side." (Erik to Charles, on the beach)_

Part Two

He was dizzy. Yes, dizzy. That was the word for how he was feeling. Confused, and dizzy. He felt like he could stop the dizziness if he could just concentrate for a moment, but those damned voices weren't leaving him alone.

Voices drifting in and out of his hearing…or was he doing the one drifting? Hard to tell, actually. And why did the voices keep changing languages? He had studied Genetics, not Modern Languages, and right now, he really wished he had paid more attention to a few undergraduate classes.

Ah, well.

The voices had stooped, thankfully, and so had the hands that were touching him. Charles hated being touched. His childhood had taught him that more often than not, a slap could be behind a hand. But now the touches were apparently over with, and he was able to rest quietly.

Until those damned birds woke him up.

Blue eyes flew open, and for a moment, Charles was absolutely still, his mind automatically trying to reach out and set the reality around him. _Raven. Other mutants. Cuba. Erik_… Being shot.

Without even fully realizing it, one of Charles fists' punched his thigh. Nothing; no sensation at all. He struggled to lift his head, and deliberately hit himself again, this time watching his fist connect with his leg to be certain. It had become his quickest and best way to determine if he was just dreaming, or if he was really….

Yes. Definitely no sensation.

His head fell back on the bed, and Charles tried to take a deep breath, to reorient himself. Alright, yes. Reality beckoned. But two stray thoughts crossed his mind; he hadn't been able to lift his head that high before because of the traction, and there certainly had not been any bird sounds in his stale Florida hospital room.

It was a bit of a struggle at first, but he managed to lift his head and upper back a little, propping up on his elbows, enough so he could see around the room. Even while in traction, he had started working out with hand weights, knowing that any physical strength he had now would rely on his arms. Now he looked around the room he found himself in, and had to blink a little.

It was large, elegant in the furnishings. And to his astonishment, apparently the house the bedroom was located within was on a beach, because out huge windows and open patio doors, he could see the ocean waves, and hear the seabirds as they searched for their next meal. In fact, it had been their screeching that had awoken him, and for one moment he really wished for Erik's powers to be able to close the stupid patio doors, shut out the light and noise, and go back to his nap.

Erik…

He flopped back on the bed, unable to support himself any longer. Images raced thought his mind, sorting and organizing. Cuba, yes. Erik…and Raven….leaving. Then Erik coming back.

Bloody Hell, what was going on?

A new sound caught his attention, and he turned to see Erik standing in the doorway of the bedroom. Their eyes met for a long moment, and then Charles frowned. "I can't hear you," he said softly, confusion etched on his face. Erik wasn't wearing that blasted helmet; shouldn't Charles be able to read him?

"No," Erik agreed, sounding almost regretful. "You can't." He came forward and quietly sat on a chair beside the bed. Charles pushed himself up again, shaking his head a bit to try again, but still, there was absolutely nothing coming from his friend's mind. Erik was completely closed to him.

"Alright," Charles said slowly, trying to think. "I just have to ask; did you have a metal plate put in your head?"

Erik's eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline and he paused in pouring a glass of water from a pitcher on a nightstand. "What?" he said, clearly taken aback. "A metal plate? Charles, really, I know you have an incredible imagination, but is that the _first_ thing you think of?"

"But I can't read you," Charles puzzled. He frowned, realization slowly dawning. "In fact, I can't hear anyone." True, he had always assumed that he had some sort of distance limit, but he had never reached it before, not even when he was cloistered at the mansion studying, all the staff was gone, and Raven was partying with her fake I.D. 40 miles away.

"Ah, yes." Erik held the glass to Charles's lips, and it was a measure of how bemused the younger man was that he accepted the sip of water without question. But he was still searching for an answer from Erik.

Erik put the glass down, and then carefully reached out a hand, and Charles watched warily, but allowing the movement, until Erik touched something around Charles' neck. "Another gift from the Soviets," Erik murmured.

Charles balanced himself awkwardly on one arm while he reached up to his neck. His fingers encountered a thin necklace of metal, and crossing his eyes, and frowning, he was just able to see it. It wasn't noticeable, but he could guess its purpose. No doubt made out of the same metal as the helmet, Charles mussed in an analytical part of his mind. Amazingly, it somehow blocked his powers. "I believe I am really starting to dislike Shaw's friends in the Kremlin," he said aloud.

Erik smiled, and it touched his eyes. "Hopefully, we don't need to deal with them again." He put a pillow behind Charles' back, and reluctantly the professor accepted its support, his arms starting to tire and his head aching.

"Where are we?" he questioned.

"One of Shaw's hideouts." At Charles' frown, Erik spread his hands. "As much as I hate to admit it, the man did have excellent taste in many things, including secluded hideouts."

Charles looked out the window for a moment, then back. "And why are we here?"

"Can't I help a friend?"

"Help me how?" Charles was wary, rather off-center with not being able to read any thoughts. He was also feeing disorientated in the new location and not thinking his best.

Erik snorted a little. "That should be obvious," he said. He leaned forward a bit. "Charles, if the Humans had decided to lock you away, _to hurt you_, would have been able to stop them? Would your powers have been able to convince everyone otherwise?"

"I don't know." Blue eyes met grey-green steadily. "But I would have been willing to try."

Erik shook his head. "I am not willing to gamble with your life," he murmured. "You are in no shape to fight the Humans."

"I fail to see how that is your responsibility." Tight words, just barely forced out. Charles knew he would never forget Erik deflecting the bullets, Moira's horror when she realized what had happened. It was an accident, he truly didn't blame either of them, but still, he could not forget. It was a world of If's; _If_ Erik hadn't turned the missiles back to the ships; _if_ Moria hadn't fired the gun to distract him…

"I make it my responsibility," Erik answered.

"Hank and the boys are my responsibility," Charles retorted. "With me gone, aren't they in more danger?" He knew he would give himself up to protect them.

"They are safe, "Erik said. "Emma warned them, and they are in hiding." He considered for a moment. "And as for Moria, she is Human, and we can let the Humans deal with her as they may. She is on their side, Charles, and they know it. They won't hurt her."

Charles sagged back again the pillows heavily. "Then summon your…your transporter, or whatever he is, and send me to Hank." The last thing he wanted was to be was a burden, but he knew he needed Hank and the boys for now. And perhaps they still needed him. Perhaps. "I thank you for rescuing me, even though it may not have been necessary."

Erik snorted. "It was completely necessary," he answered. He stood up and walked over the doors, pulling the drapes to give some shade from the gathering sun. "I hope you like it here. As I said, Shaw did have good taste."

"Erik, what do you mean?" Charles said tiredly. He had never realized how exhausting it was to have a conversation with someone who was being evasive. He was accustomed to just going into their minds and finding the answers. The thought that he had been rather spoiled, and lazy, when it came to dealing with people crossed his mind. True, he hadn't read Erik since that first night, and perhaps that had been a mistake, but he simply could not force his friend to do something or intrude on his privacy that way.

"The specialists I consulted with all agreed that this would be a good place for you to recover," Erik continued. He finished his fussing with the drapes and returned to the bed. "They left quite a bit of reading material and detailed instructions," he added, gesturing the nightstand. "I've managed to work my way through most of it. You have some catching up to do on rehabilitation."

Charles raised one eyebrow in confusion. "Rehabilitation? As in…mine?" At Erik's nod, he found himself flushing. "You have never impressed me as a nurse, my friend," he murmured. "I think Hank…"

"Would have no idea what to do, as brilliant as he is. And I would not leave a goldfish with Sean or Alex." Erik smiled wryly. "It will not be easy, but I seem to recall someone being a rather enthusiastic coach during some earlier training. I suspect you can take what you relished dishing out to the children. And if it makes you feel better, look at it this way: if you insist on us fighting, I want a healthy opponent."

Charles was getting dizzy and tired, and had to close his eyes for a moment. "Erik…" he trailed off, not sure what to say.

"You need to heal, and this is the best place. Just trust me, Charles."

Blue eyes flew open. "Then take off the damn…chain…and trust me," Charles spat, one hand going to his neck.

To his surprised, Erik nodded, and sat back in the chair. "You can ascertain that I what I told you about the boys and Moria is true, and after that, no more." Erik thought for a moment. "And no cheating at chess."

"I do not cheat," Charles protested automatically. His eyes narrowed in thought. "Raven?" he asked quietly. Erik nodded.

"You cannot contact her, but yes, assure yourself that she is well. And you need to promise me, Charles, that you won't influence anyone while we are here. I know this is going against your nature, but I offer you a truce; please, trust me on this."

"We need to talk, Erik."

"We do," the older man agreed. "We need to talk about a great many things, Charles, and this is the best place to do that. And you need to recover, and pushing your powers will not help right now."

Charles bit his lip, and then nodded. Erik nodded in return, and shifted his hand slightly. Charles felt a gentle tugging around his neck, and then the necklace slipped off and floated to Erik's hand. He inclined in head, waiting, and Charles raised a hand to his temple, concentrating.

"We are isolated, aren't we?" he murmured a moment later, sifting through what he could of Erik's thoughts.

"Better to concentrate," Erik smiled a little. "You don't need any distractions."

Charles sighed, gesturing to the necklace. "Thank you," he said softly. Erik inclined his head.

"It would have only been able to block you a little bit longer anyway."

"What?" Charles pushed himself back up on his elbows in record speed. "Its power is only temporary?"

"So says Emma," Erik grinned. "I had no idea if it would work at all against you, seeing as how you are so much more powerful, but I figured it was worth a try since you would be off-guard."

Charles sputtered in indignation, his eyes closing again as he collapsed back down, exhausted. "Why you….arrogant, boastful—"

"I'm wounded," Erik protested, holding up a hand to his chest.

"—cheating, deceitful—"

"Are you going to work your way through the entire English alphabet?" Erik asked warily.

"—egoistical—"

"You are, aren't you?" The older man sighed, but sat back to take the verbal lashing. He rather doubted that Charles would be able to stay awake much longer anyway.

A minute later there was a pause in the litany. "And….and…Zebra!" Charles muttered triumphantly. His mission completed, he fell asleep.

**TBC…..**

**Author's Note**: I have enjoyed a number of fanfic stories where some sort of collar or necklace is used to suppress Charles' powers. Being new to the fandom, I don't know if this is cannon or something developed by a brilliant writer. If it is from FF, I humbly beg belated permission to use the idea.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title**: By My Side (3/?)

**Pairing**: Erik/Charles

**Rating**: PG13 – R (maybe higher later on)

**Category**: Hurt/Comfort, Angst

**Warnings**: Some language, Injured Charles. *maybe* Slash at some point, but not sure yet.

**Standard Disclaimer**: I own nothing connected with X Men other than a deep affection for the movie and characters.

Thank you Snoopy and Lucas for story help!

**Summary**: Erik returns for Charles.

"_I want you by my side." (Erik to Charles, on the beach)_

**Part Three**

Over the next few days, Charles was kept busy with his new 'team'; a doctor specializing in spinal cord injuries, a nurse, and a physical therapist, each of them possessing some mutant powers. After one day of their fussing, Charles was convinced they were actually trolls that Erik had hired simply to torment him. He found himself poked, prodded and scolded in a mixture of German, French, and English, and decided it just simply wasn't fair.

The first rounds of physical therapy proved to be grueling, and Charles was left too exhausted to think about much of anything. Just sitting up in the wheelchair took an effort as he had to start relearning how to balance himself. He could only sit for brief periods at first, but each time he lasted longer, and after the weeks in the hospital, trapped in bed, he welcomed any additional freedom. Erik had not visited him again, apparently giving him some time to settle in, and Charles was secretly glad for the respite. As much as he needed to talk with Erik, he knew he wasn't in any shape to think too clearly for a while.

The third day, Charles was wheeled out of the bedroom and to a nearby study. Physical Therapist Troll actually smiled as she handed him a phone, tucked the blanket around his legs more firmly, and then tactfully withdrew to a chair by the windows. Charles cleared his throat and then hesitantly lifted the phone to his ear.

"Hello?" he ventured.

"Charles!" The so familiar voice washed over him and Charles felt his heart leap in joy.

"Raven!"

Brother and sister talked for over an hour, laughing, crying. Raven apologized over and over for leaving him, Charles nearly crying as well as he tried to comfort her. He knew she was an adult who had made her choice, as much as it pained him, but perhaps it needn't be such the break between them that Charles had thought it would be. Raven was careful to not say too much about where she was, or what she was doing, but Charles could tell she was well, and that was all that mattered to him.

After an hour, Raven ended the call, promising to call him again the next day and every day after that. Charles was so relieved and happy that he didn't fuss one bit when he was taken back to bed and tucked in for an afternoon nap.

Just as welcome as the call from Raven were letters from Hank, Alex, and Sean, assuring him that they too were well. Charles was a bit amused that it was Sean who had the beautiful, copperplate script, while Hank had the nearly indescribable scrawl of a doctor. But of course, he remembered that technically, Hank had paws now, and perhaps managing a pen was something he was still getting used to. Alex's firm handwriting looked just like a typewriter, and he wrote that they had been promised they could call him soon. Charles quickly wrote letters back to each of them, and Doctor Troll promised that they would be delivered that same day. Apparently Azazel was doing double duty as the local postmaster.

Four days passed before Erik made his reappearance. Charles was collapsed in the wheelchair on the balcony off his room that evening, watching the sunset and trying to summon the energy to decide if he could move or not, when Erik joined him. Charles couldn't help but tense a bit, and then made himself try to relax. The older man looked at him carefully, a small smile on his face.

"You look terrible," he offered calmly.

"Flatterer," Charles muttered, one hand pushing back his hair. Just like Erik to open a conversation with a barb, but he was too tired to protest much. "And you say I have dreadful pickup lines."

"Well, you do."

Charles sighed, trying to hide his own smile. It was easy – and simpler- to hide in the humorous banter they had had before. "Are you here for an actual reason, or is insulting me enough?"

"I was going to ask you to dinner. And I promise to play nice and we can talk if you accept."

"Um…" Charles pondered that for a moment. He was tired, but restless enough to find the offer very tempting. And he did badly need to talk with Erik. "I'm not really dressed for dinner." He'd had a bath (courtesy of Nurse Troll) after afternoon therapy, and was clad in just pajamas, robe, and slippers.

"It's a casual dress code." Erik himself looked surprisingly relaxed in jeans and a simple shirt.

"I'm very angry at you, you realize."

"I know."

"Seriously upset."

"I would expect nothing less."

"I meant everything I called you earlier."

Erik cleared his throat. "Including zebra?"

"_Especially_ zebra," Charles nodded. "But be that as it may, if dinner involves getting out of this room and away from the trolls, then I shall take you up on the offer. You just might have to wait a few months while I gather the strength to move."

Erik moved behind him, and Charles tensed as he felt the wheelchair move. But it was a very slow, careful glide, and he made himself relax as the chair turned around. Erik hesitated, a question on his face, waiting, wanting to ask, but not quite sure how to say it. Charles bit his lip, and took a deep breath.

"Yes, thank you, I would appreciate the assistance," he forced out. He hated it, but this was his new reality.

Erik inclined his head a bit, and the chair moved beside him effortlessly. Despite himself, Charles was excited to get out, and he was curious as they went into a long hallway. At the end a flight of stairs led down a level, and without any hesitation the wheelchair floated carefully above them to the bottom floor. Charles had the handlebars of the wheelchair in a death grip, even though he knew Erik would not let him fall. It was simply already instinctive to hate being manipulated physically because of his condition. Once they reached a large dining room that opened onto a terrace, Charles nodded stiffly.

"Thank you. I believe I have it from here." Erik nodded, and Charles felt the chair settled back on the ground, no longer under Erik's control. The older man tilted his head a bit, considering, as he gave Charles a moment to collect himself.

"Trolls?" he finally asked.

Charles flushed. "Not very charitable of me, I know. But yes, trolls, as in I am positive you found them under a bridge."

"Not precisely a bridge," Erik objected thoughtfully, and Charles sniffed, still confident in his assessment.

Charles looked about the terrace as Erik led the way to the large dining table already set for dinner, appreciating the view of the ocean and the manicured lawns. Well, yes, the South Pacific was definitely lovely, he decided. It was a warm evening, and he felt more relaxed now, even though the discussion with Erik would not be easy. Then he spotted something that made his eyes truly light up.

He was at the sidebar, eyeing the decanter of Scotch, when the tray it rested on moved out of his reach.

Charles stiffened, his jaw clenched so hard his teeth nearly ground. Starring at the wall, he said in very precise tones, "Erik, I am going to have a drink. And if you try to interfere, it won't take any mutant powers from me to make you burst into flames where you stand."

Erik actually hesitated. "The doctors…" he demurred.

"Are trolls," Charles said firmly. "I am very aware of all the blasted medications I am on at present, and it will not hurt me to have one drink. Besides, all things considered, I damn well deserve this."

There was a pause, and then the tray obediently slid back. Charles carefully poured himself a short drink and quickly drowned it, only vaguely appreciating the good stock. He set the glass back on the bar and straightened his shoulders.

"Ground rules." Charles turned the chair to face Erik, who was seated at the table, leaning a back a little. He made a gesture to indicate that he was listening, and Charles took a deep breath. "I have promised to not use my powers unless given permission. You need to do the same." He hadn't had time or ability to realize just how vulnerable he was now in the chair. But of course, his wheelchair was metal; which mean Erik could have total control of him. The drink had been partially to steady his nerves; he hoped the alcohol would kick in soon.

Erik considered, and then nodded his acceptance. "That is fair," he agreed, and Charles could hardly contain his sigh of relief. "Will you come join me?" Erik continued. "We have indefinite time to argue, but the food will stay at ideal temperatures only so long." Charles nodded and steered himself to the table.

A maid came out to serve, and Charles found himself drawn into the civilized tone of the evening. They carefully talked about Raven, the boys, everything except Cuba. All the events of that day were hinted at, but never broached directly until they were finished with the meal and taking tea. Charles didn't mean to be harsh or abrupt, but he could not wait any longer.

"Erik, in Cuba….why did you leave?" he asked finally, his eyes searching for some answer. The sick realization that he couldn't feel his legs had been nothing compared to Erik and Raven leaving. They had left a far larger hole in Charles' body than any bullet could accomplish.

Erik's lips twitched a little, accepting the change in conversation. "What drives all that I do?" he answered. "Anger."

"Oh, Erik," Charles shook his head. "You think that anger makes you stronger, but it does not. In the end, it will only tear you apart."

"And your gentleness, Charles, allows others too much opportunity to use their anger against you," Erik countered. "But I was wrong to leave you. I am so sorry."

Charles knew that apologies were seldom from Erik. He did not apologize for his past, for the things he had felt he need to do in his drive for revenge. "I do not blame you," Charles whispered. "Never that."

Erik seemed to release a breath that he had been holding all evening. He nodded, letting himself unbend perhaps half an inch. "Us fighting one another is what the Humans want, Charles. We cannot allow that to ever happen."

"I do not think they want any fighting."

"They want nothing else." Erik starred hard at the younger man. "You know that from history. We must fight for our species.'

"Why?" Charles felt his heart pounding. "With Shaw gone, why do we have to fight against anything?" How could he accept what Erik wanted? Even as they had flown to Cuba, Charles had felt his friend slipping through his hands. But even when Shaw was killed, Charles had not lost hope, and he knew he would never give up.

Erik leaned forward, one hand almost touching Charles' arm. "Charles, you and I are the two most powerful beings in the world. We have the power of the ages in our hands. How can we not use this opportunity?'

"You also said that we are already the better men," Charles reminded him. "If this is so, then to what ends do we exercise that power?" Blue eyes looked at Erik, pleading, seeking answers. "Power corrupts, my friend. And absolute power…" Charles trailed off, knowing that Erik knew the rest of the statement: _absolute power would corrupt absolutely_. "Why would mutants seek any war?"

"When it is necessary to protect," Erik said a bit harshly. "We stopped the Human's war, and what did we get for it? Missiles fired at _us_, Charles; we who had prevented their own self-destruction."

"The desired destruction was Shaw's manipulations," Charles argued. "It was not their choice."

"They made the choice to turn the missiles on us."

"So because of that, because of the actions of a few, you would fight an entire world?" Charles refused to think that was the only answer.

Erik snorted. "Because of what they would do to you!" he snapped. "You could not have stopped them, Charles, from what they wanted to do when they had you prisoner. What they would then do to all Mutants. It is the natural way of Humans; they will destroy anything different from them." His lips twisted. "I know that all too well. Charles, I want to make the world safe, don't you understand that?"

"Safe for mutants only?"

"Safe for you." Erik's pale eyes were intense with something that Charles could not name. "Charles, I said that I need you by my side. That will never change. You say we want different things, and perhaps that is true when it comes to the Humans, but why do you persist in thinking that _you and I_ need to be some sort of enemies? We cannot let that be. We are…entwined….now. It will always be that way."

Charles blinked, trying to absorb the words. Then he had to tear his gaze away from Erik and look out at the ocean. The older man was looking at him in a way that suddenly made Charles very aware of his vulnerability again. He had no idea what to think anymore and he raised a hand to his forehead, rubbing at the ache forming behind his eyes.

"Charles?" Erik questioned, seeing the gesture.

"I am not using my powers," Charles hurriedly assured him. "Simply a normal headache, I fear." He was quite irrationally grateful for the ache and change in topic. He was still not strong enough to fight Erik at length, and that worried him. Charles refused to even consider that Erik would ever harm him, but he didn't know how far Erik's restraint toward Humans would last.

"I did not think you were breaking your word," Erik answered truthfully. "It is from me keeping you out too long. Your trolls gave me rather detailed instructions for your first night out, and I am in danger of violating them."

Charles felt himself flush again; while they had been talking, he had almost been able to forget his new physical limitations. For all that he had no idea what he was going to say to Erik to persuade him, the challenge kept his mind occupied with something other than the harsh reality of his body.

Erik stood, and carefully put their teacups on the table. "To prevent breaking the ground rules," he said, his voice deliberately light, "may I have permission to help you back to your rooms?"

Charles sighed, but had no choice but to agree, trying to give in with some dignity intact. "We are not finished talking," he warned Erik.

"Never finished, I agree."

**TBC…..**


	4. Chapter 4

**Title**: By My Side (4/?)

**Pairing**: Erik/Charles

**Rating**: PG13 – R

**Category**: Hurt/Comfort, Angst

**Warnings**: Some language, Injured Charles, Sexual tension (but not explicit).

**Standard Disclaimer**: I own nothing connected with X Men other than a deep affection for the movie and characters.

Thank you Snoopy and Lucas for story help!

**Summary**: Erik returns for Charles.

"_I want you by my side." (Erik to Charles, on the beach)_

**Part Four**

The next days continued on an already set pattern, and Charles found himself relieved for the consistency. So much had been taken from him in just a few moments – his sister, his best friend, and his legs- that without fully realizing it, he had begun to hate any changes. After the initial shock and anger of being kidnapped had dissipated, he welcomed predictable patterns.

Even if - and perhaps especially if - Erik was involved.

He had time to read the newspapers and a few articles over breakfast, and then the rest of the mornings and early afternoon were for physical therapy. To Charles' chagrin, he was unfortunately always exhausted enough to need a nap after lunch, but it was made more bearable knowing that Raven would call when he was up again. Letters from the boys were also delivered in the afternoon, and Charles worked on his replies to them. As a special treat, there was the promised phone call from the boys one afternoon after he had talked with Raven, and he was amused at their excited babbling and arguing between the three of them over who whose turn it was with the phone. Hank seemed to be winning, and he assured Charles that they were well. They were even planning to return to the mansion, and Charles worried, but knew they were old enough to make the necessary plans.

The idea that had first come to him in the hospital- of opening a school for mutant children- seemed to be a real possibility. Hank was enthusiastic, and Alex and Sean were also on board for the idea, provided of course, that they didn't have to get teaching degrees right away. Both boys seemed horrified of the idea of taking college classes, and Charles knew he would have to work on that with them.

Even Erik had responded favorably to the idea as they talked, and Charles was glad of that. He most certainly did not need Erik's approval, and had made that quite clear during one argument, but it was making some conversations easier.

After the phone calls and catching up on his correspondence, Charles would freshen up – more and more on his own, with no need for Nurse Troll to be hovering, thank you very much, and get dressed for dinner. He missed his familiar tweeds and jackets, but even he admitted that they were not exactly suited to the tropical climate.

Evenings were spent with Erik, dinner, and chess, and arguing/discussion. Then the schedule would continue the next day, and all was well, until one day when Erik arrived at morning therapy and made himself quite at home. Physical Therapist Troll had been only too happy to let Erik help with Charles' workouts, despite the fact that the subject of said rehab was downright snippy about it. He let them know it often, and quite vocally, and was pretty much ignored. Erik was a monster. No doubt about it. Perhaps it was payback for Charles taking charge of training everyone at the mansion, and the professor acknowledged that he had been terribly bossy. But Erik plus the trolls was just, well to put it plainly, _mean. _

In retaliation, Charles discovered he had one physical trick up his sleeve; running over Erik's feet whenever possible. The first few times, Erik hadn't said anything, but by the third day of his feet being clear targets, he had started to growl a bit. Still, he never said anything directly to Charles about it, and Charles continued to watch for opportunities. Erik never once used his powers to stop it, and deep down, Charles appreciated that, even as he plotted new excuses.

There was reason to hope that things could yet work out. And there was reason to hope that Erik would lose some of his anger.

Unfortunately, Charles kept loosing _his_ temper. He was not always very good at setting an example in being civilized.

It was the sit-ups that caused the real breakdown.

Charles was gasping, struggling, and not so quietly furious. Still, he was willing to apologize where it was necessary, and perhaps it would give him a few exceptions from the workout torture. It was worth a try. "I'm really sorry—"

"Nineteen," Erik continued calmly, counting as Charles struggled through the exercise.

"—that I made you move—" Charles was gasping between reps, but he really felt he had to say this.

"Twenty."

"—the satellite dish." Charles collapsed back on he floor, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Lord, he hated this exercise. He disliked all exercise, truly, but this was just miserable. He had read that sit-ups supposedly used the abdomen and chest muscles as opposed to legs, but right now just thinking about them made every muscle he had left ache. Thank goodness it was over.

"Apology accepted," Erik said mildly. He readjusted his grip in Charles's legs, making sure the younger mans feet were strapped into the brace securely and he had a steady hold on Charles's knees, holding his legs in proper position. "Do five more."

Charles dragged himself up on his elbows. "What?" He likely would have shrieked, but right now he lacked the lung capacity for more speech volume.

"Five," Erik repeated, far too cheerfully.

Oh, no, he was not going to let Erik dictate this. "No," he said stubbornly.

"Come on."

"Go away and leave me alone." Charles was ready to settle into a very good sulk.

Erik leaned forward, his eyes amused, but also determined. "You don't get to talk to Raven until you do five more."

"Why you….how dare you _threaten_ me!" Charles was rather outraged. He had been kidnapped, really, and being held basically against his will, but still, _threatening_ from Erik was a whole new low.

"You could have been done by now. Get started." Erik showed absolutely no sign of remorse or leniency.

Charles's eyes narrowed. His hands went behind his head, and he slowly moved.

"One….good. Two…" Erik counted.

On the third count, Charles came up swinging. His right fist connected firmly with Erik's jaw, and his left got Erik straight in the eye. He was pleased to see Erik actually fall back, caught totally off guard and off balance. Charles slumped back down as well, but he had a lot of satisfaction in seeing the shocked look on the older man's face as he finally sat back up. By in large, Charles abhorred physical violence, but this one-time expression pretty much summed up his current emotions.

Erik cleared his throat, self-consciously feeling the soon-to-be bruised spot on his jaw. "Four…and five," he conceded.

Charles smirked, looking up at the ceiling. "Audacial, bardus," he began to recite, ticking off words on his fingers.

Erik's eyebrows rose. "Latin now?" he questioned.

"-canis…"

"Did you just call me a dog?"

"-diabolus."

Erik sighed, and politely listened to the rest of the 23 alphabet rant, taking the lashing. When Charles was finally done, he helped the younger man back into the wheelchair.

"I am not a dog," he grumbled under his breath.

Charles just smiled. He was certain he had gotten a few words in there that even Erik didn't know.

His smirking was sadly short lived, as Erik got his revenge the next day.

Charles had finished lunch and was getting ready for afternoon exercises when Erik strode into the room and tossed a small bundle at him.

"Get undressed," he said.

Charles nearly chocked on his tea. "I beg your pardon?"

Erik snorted. "Swimsuit, Charles. Your trolls have approved some pool time for us this afternoon."

"Swimming?" Charles hesitated. "I don't know…" He had liked swimming before, was even a bit good at it, but was it even possible now?

The older man smiled at him, something of a fond look in his eyes. "It will be alright," he said. "Come on. I'll give you 10 minutes to change, and then we go downstairs." Charles sighed, and then nodded in agreement.

Charles's resolve faltered a bit once they were down at the pool. He had never noticed it before, but the water did look awfully deep. He toyed with the belt on the robe he had put on over the swim trunks. "Really, Erik, is this a good idea?"

"It is," Erik said. "Water therapy has been used for centuries." He hadn't bothered with a robe, and was eyeing the fluffy white terrycloth that Charles had himself swathed in with amusement.

"Hasn't it also been used for torture?" Charles pointed out.

"Torture? Really, Charles, your imagination is far too vivid for your own good." Erik reached down to scoop up a handful of water and trickled it over Charles's hand. "The water is warm," he pointed out.

The water still looked too deep. "Perhaps a lifejacket would be in order?"

"I'm not leaving your side." Charles wasn't sure if he should take that as a promise, or a threat.

"I sunburn."

"Charles, stop stalling and trying excuses. Now."

Charles bit his lip, but slowly started to pull off his robe.

It wasn't fair, it simply wasn't. Erik was like a Greek God come to life, and Charles hadn't wanted to compare himself to the older man even before the shooting. Now, the last thing he wanted was to be in front of Erik in only a swimsuit, with his already thin legs showing. Charles had insisted on wearing sweatpants during his exercise sessions before, and right now he wanted nothing more than his grey tracksuit from the mansion. Maybe two or three of them.

Erik waited patiently, which for him was a whole half a minute, before he raised an eyebrow. "It's going in the water with us in about 10 seconds," he said, pointing at the robe.

"It's part silk" Charles protested in horror.

"Then we don't want it to get wet, do we?"

Charles scowled, but finally pulled the garment off as best he could. Erik bent down, one arm behind Charles back, and the other under his knees. He waited a beat till Charles nodded, and then carefully picked up the telepath. Charles found himself clinging rather desperately to Erik's shoulders as the older man easily carried him into the water.

"It's alright," Erik said softly, his lips dangerously close to Charles's ear. He went down the steps, and then turned, settling Charles on one of the steps so he could sit in the water at a chest deep depth. Charles floundered for a moment, getting his balance, but soon steadied himself. The water was indeed warm, and after a few minutes, he could feel himself relaxing. Erik sat beside him, a strong hand on Charles' back to support him.

"I'm good," Charles finally said, nervously. He was far too aware of that hand on his back. He scooted back on the step, leaning against it for extra balance.

Erik nodded and moved down to Charles's legs. Charles watched a bit suspiciously as Erik took hold of one foot and began carefully, slowly, moving it around, flexing the foot. Charles couldn't feel anything, and it was disconcerting to his mind. All of the therapy on his legs was unsettling. He should _feel_ it. He should feel those hands - Erik's hands - on him. He wanted to feel…..

Charles hastily broke off that train of thought.

After working one foot, Erik went onto the other, and then carefully went through the stretching exercises for Charles' legs. Charles was starting to acknowledge that this was rather nice when Erik stood up and leaned over him. Before Charles could protest, he was picked up, gently turned around, and pressed up against Erik's chest.

"What-?" Charles flailed at the water as Erik stepped backwards, carefully pulling Charles with him.

"Shh," Erik soothed, his voice calm and soft, again too close to Charles's ear for his comfort. "I've got you. Just relax."

Charles found himself yet again clutching at Erik's arms. "What are you doing?" he hissed.

"Let yourself float," Erik urged. His arms shifted slightly, making sure Charles's shoulders and head were safely tucked up against his chest, like a lifesavers rescue hold. Erik took a few steps back till the water was at his chest level, and then stopped. "We're not going any deeper, and we're right by the wall." Charles reached out, and indeed, his hand easily found the edge of the pool. He kept one hand on Erik's arm, and the other on the wall. "It's alright," Erik continued. "This is good for you. Try to stretch out and just float. You know you're not going to sink and I won't let go of you."

"You damn well better not," Charles muttered between clenched teeth, and then flushed a little at how that may have come across. Erik just chuckled, and Charles could feel the vibrations in the other man's chest.

"I'm not going to." _Ever again._

It took some time, but eventually Charles relaxed enough so he was completely floating, Erik shifting a little so he was standing beside him, one arm supporting Charles's shoulders and the other under his waist. Against his better judgment, Charles closed his eyes, tilting his head back and forcing himself to relax, to trust Erik completely. He eventually released his death grip on the wall, and Erik pulled them out into the middle of the pool, though still keeping in the shallow end. He began lazily circling around, pulling Charles through the water. Erik had used his powers to move the large poolside umbrellas near the edge of the pool, and he kept them into the shade to prevent Charles fussing about sun overexposure.

Charles tried to simply let himself go, to try and enjoy what was happening, and after he accepted that he wasn't going to sink, it was really quite nice. For the first time in over six weeks he was able to relax his entire body, to stretch out. It was so amazing to feel almost weightless, to not feel the sickening dead weight of his legs holding him down. He hadn't realized how heavy a burden was now in his body and mind. In the pool, he could pretend for a few minutes, not trapped in the wheelchair. And he could pretend that Erik's warm hands…

Good Lord, what _was_ it with him and hands suddenly?

Beside him, Erik chuckled. "You have a most intense look on your face, Charles. What are you thinking about now?"

Lord, it just got worse and worse. "Um…." Charles thought frantically. "Of the last time we were in the water together," he said hurriedly. "It was a little bit different circumstance," he added, opening his eyes and gesturing a little to Erik's arms around him. Last time it had been Charles pulling Erik out of the water.

"Ah, yes," Erik nodded. He smiled a little. "Did I ever thank you for that?"

Charles pondered that for a moment. "I'm fairly certain you did at a later point, but at the time, I just learned a lot of profanity in several languages, and some extremely inventive insults. I really should have thanked you for expanding my vocabulary."

Erik laughed, and Charles had to join in. The older man splashed some water on Charles' chest, and Charles retaliated but then held up a warning hand before things could escalate. "I don't think I am ready for a water fight, Erik."

"Not yet, perhaps," Erik agreed. "But soon. We'll have you swimming again in no time, though there is no rush. We have all the time we need."

Something in that made Charles pause, and he cleared his throat. "Erik?"

"Yes?"

"We can't….I mean, I can't…" Charles fumbled over the words. "Stay here, I mean." Of all the times and places, Charles had never thought he would have this delicate conversation in the pool, in Erik's arms, but it seemed to be happening. Even after the past weeks, Charles didn't quite understand where he fit in Erik's grand scheme of things. He had never asked; had been too nervous to bring up the precise subject of himself. He didn't feel like a prisoner, but really, wasn't he? Or was it something else?

Erik didn't change his gentle, careful grip on Charles, but he may have stiffened a little. Then he started slowly moving toward the steps. "I think we should get out now."

"Erik."

"You likely wrinkle if left in the water too long in addition to burning up like a vampire in the sun."

"Flattery won't get you anywhere," Charles said tartly. It was probably a lie, but that was beside the point. He grabbed Erik's arm. "Stop now."

There was nothing physical Charles could do, and he had promised to not use his powers, but something may have crept into his tone, because Erik did stop. Charles was carefully drawn up against Erik's chest again, and he sighed. It was difficult to have a serious conversation with someone when one's head was tucked up under the other person's chin. Not to mention that both were pretty much naked. He glared down at the arms that were wrapped around his chest; he was not letting Erik distract him, he was not.

"I know you can talk anywhere, anytime," Erik finally said, "but do you really want to argue here?"

"No, not at all, actually," Charles agreed, trying to keep his voice steady. "But it does not change the fact that—"

"I know," Erik repeated. He sighed. "Tonight, I promise."

Charles considered the offer, weighing his options, and then nodded. "Alright, tonight. But you are not getting out of this."

"I know I'm not."

**TBC…..**

From an online Latin/English dictionary:

_Audacial_- audacious, bold

_Bardus_- stupid

_Canis_- dog

_Diabolus_- devil, Satan


	5. Chapter 5

**Title**: By My Side (5/5)

**Pairing**: Erik/Charles

**Rating**: PG13 – R

**Category**: Hurt/Comfort, Angst

**Warnings**: Some language, Injured Charles, Sexual tension (but not explicit).

**Standard Disclaimer**: I own nothing connected with X Men other than a deep affection for the movie and characters.

Thank you Snoopy and Lucas for story help!

**Summary**: Erik returns for Charles.

"_I want you by my side." (Erik to Charles, on the beach)_

**Part Five**

Charles shifted uneasily in his chair, grateful his hands were at least occupied with wheeling over to the dinning table and getting settled. Erik had collected him as usual, and the tension between them was palatable, although Charles could not sense any anger. Just knowledge that all their previous discussions would be nothing compared to what they would face that night.

Erik asked if he wanted his one allowed alcoholic drink with the meal or after, and Charles immediately voted for wine with the meal. He suspected Erik was just as happy to have something to do as the older man brought the wine to the table, and finally had to sit down himself. Charles summoned his nerve, trying to decide how best to begin. Surprisingly, it was Erik who spoke first.

"You are not a prisoner," Erik said, his voice quiet, his eyes not quite meeting Charles'. "I would never do that to you."

Charles bit back a comment on that, knowing Erik's opinion. In Erik's view, he was keeping Charles safe, and then end justified the means. They had danced around that topic politely and not so politely before. Ultimately, Charles knew that he had the ability to _make_ Erik take him back at anytime, and Erik obviously knew that as well. If Charles truly wanted it, he could use his powers. A promise made when he was still recently injured and unsettled could not be held against him. Erik had never worn the helmet since he had taken Charles, leaving himself open, and trusting in a way that was ordinarily completely against his nature, and Charles respected that.

"I do not view myself as one," he murmured, and Erik nodded, a fraction of the tension perhaps easing in his body. "But what you said earlier…Erik, I don't understand what you want." He waved a hand. "Besides this Brotherhood you would form, and fighting the Humans, I mean."

Erik tilted his head slowly, regarding the other man. "You have been the one with the ideas."

Charles sighed. "My school. That is all I want, Erik. But you? You talk of wanting to rule the world. That is a very tall order for a several million mutants against billions of humans."

"I know that Utopias do not exist, Charles. And despite what you might think, I don't want to rule the world. I only want for us to be able to live without threats from the Humans. We have to protect ourselves."

"I know." Charles had reluctantly accepted that reality. "This is far from a perfect world, and it never will be perfect. But for most of Man's existence, he has shared the world with other species of hominids. Our cousins, the Neanderthals, lived beside Man for perhaps 100,000 years. It appears to be the natural order of the world that several species co-exist at the same time."

Erik raised an eyebrow. "Charles, your own thesis observed that it was also the pattern that each superior species exterminated the weaker ones."

"I was arrogant," Charles said quietly. "Written before I realized how things work in the real world, and not just in cold academia. And reality is that we cannot be like Shaw, and plot the end of an entire species. The world stood on the edge of disaster for everyone, Erik. If nuclear war had occurred, I do not think as many mutants would have survived as Shaw assumed. He never considered how to rebuild an entire planet."

"Reality…is difficult," Erik conceded. He leaned back in his chair, considering matters. "So you think we can co-exist with Humans now that they know we exist?"

"The number who know are small," Charles argued. "Anonymity is our greatest protection, and it is one they will also use. All the minds I could reach wanted us to simply go away, and hardly anyone meant that by killing us. They had no idea what we…what you….could do with the missiles, and it taught them a lesson. Your point was made, Erik. They fear us, but because of that, the ones who truly know about mutants will not attack us again. There is _no need_ for fighting."

"There are always those who will want war, Charles."

The younger man frowned, his lips narrowing in defeat. "I know. But we can do this, I know we can. We can protect ourselves without a war."

"History would argue you are wrong."

"The point of history is learning from past mistakes. We are not doomed to repeat things our ancestors did, either 100,000 years ago or more recently." Charles took a deep breath. "You said in Cuba that we want the same things, and in my arrogance….and pride and pain…I said no. But I know now that perhaps I was wrong again."

Erik reached out, and touched his hand lightly, and Charles found himself starring at it. "You are seldom wrong, Charles." A smile touched his lips. "Arrogant, naïve, and misguided, but never stupid."

Charles snorted. "Very comforting," he said drily. He steadied himself to speak, putting his heart out. "I want us to open the school together, Erik," he said. "To work together. We cannot fight amongst ourselves for it will destroy us ultimately. We have different means, but the end is perhaps the same after all. Can we not try?"

Pale eyes regarded him, and then Erik smiled again. "I want that as well," he said softly.

Charles released the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He smiled, and then looked at the table, where Erik's hand was still covering his. He glanced at Erik, his eyes puzzled.

"I want you to read my mind right now, Charles. To know what I want. And share what you want in turn." Erik's eyes were blazing into his. Charles almost had to turn away.

"Ah, regarding the school, yes? And our new truce?" Charles could barely get the words out of his throat.

"Regarding _us_," Erik purred.

Charles had to close his eyes for moment, unable to process that. "I…not now," he finally whispered, and he opened his eyes. "I'm afraid that now I must ask that we wait on a conversation, my friend."

Erik's thumb trailed over Charles's palm, barely caressing, and then squeezed his hand gently before releasing it and returning his hands to near his dinner plate. "The school, then," Erik agreed. "And things we must do to help mutants, and assure our protection from the Humans."

Charles made a soft sound of agreement, and hurriedly closed his eyes again, trying to concentrate. For the first time in weeks, he reached out, and found Erik's mind so close to his in every way. He entwined their thoughts carefully, opening only certain doors within. He saw what he wanted, and let Erik inside his mind, focusing firmly. There was the touch from Erik's mind, cool, so controlled and organized, and simply just so _right_. Erik politely withdrew after just a moment, and Charles quickly did the same. They had found their common ground, and were satisfied.

It was a start to some things. Other things were left untouched.

They made plans to leave in a few days. Messages were sent out. Erik saw Charles back to his room, and Nurse Troll tucked Charles into bed before leaving him in peace. But hours later, Charles was still wide-awake, starring out the windows at the ocean.

Without fully realizing it, he reached out.

_Erik?_

_Charles? Are you alright?_ Erik's thoughts were calm and soothing.

_Yes, I'm fine. I….I'm not trying to break the ground rules; I'm not influencing or reading. I just…._

_Shhhh; one moment._

The door to the bedroom opened and Erik entered, still dressed. He had obviously not found sleep either. Charles rolled over to face him, and Erik sat on the edge of the bed. Cautiously, he reached out and took Charles's hand again.

"A change in the ground rules," Erik said quietly. "I want you to read my mind again, Charles. We don't need to have that conversation now; it can wait. But look and see what I am thinking right now."

Charles didn't need to raise his hand to his temple; Erik was close enough so it was easy to find. Charles was grateful for the darkness of the room as he felt himself blush a little. He could not say it was unexpected anymore, but it was still so amazing to know.

"Erik…well, I…"

Erik held up a hand and smiled. "Just know," he said. "We have time for that talk later."

"Alright." Charles bit his lip, but also sent out a thought; not an influence or even really a suggestion, just a picture.

Even in the just the moonlight, he could see Erik's pale eyes light up.

The door closed at a flick of Erik's thought as he pulled off his shoes and carefully laid down on the bed, drawling Charles into his arms. Charles sighed, settling quickly. Erik didn't try to kiss him, just held him, and it was enough for them to simply be beside each other.

"This is also why I came back for you," Erik whispered. "And I won't leave your side again."

"I know." Charles smiled.

No matter what happened in the future, he knew that Erik would be by his side.

**THE END**

**Author's Note:** I originally thought this story would be a bit longer and more detailed, but this is where it has decided to stop with me, and I am content. I just wanted to offer a humble option on what could have happened after Cuba, and this way, Dear Reader, you can decide for yourself what would happen next.

THANK YOU FOR READING!


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